


Philophobia

by weestarmeggie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Head Boy Tom Riddle, Head Girl Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 14:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie
Summary: Or five times it was just sex and the one time it wasn't.





	Philophobia

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't even supposed to be doing this - isn't it bad form to take part in your own fests? Anyway here we are - i chose a trope not even on the list but an obvious one at that. This fic wouldn't even exist without Quitethesardonic and so she gets full credit. Happy Birthday Hermione.

**The first time they had sex** , they weren’t even friends. Well, not really. 

 

Sure, they shared a common room and Head duties as well as a friend in Harry, but that was the extent of their relationship. Hermione wasn’t even sure Tom considered Harry a friend. Tom seemed to treat Harry like an annoying younger brother who he enjoyed antagonising, the pair of them being thrust together due to circumstance.

 

He was tolerable enough as a roommate. More than tolerable, really, considering that she used to share her living space with many loud, brash, and impulsive Gryffindors, a stark contrast to Tom, who was a sedate and quiet Slytherin and more likely to engage in intellectual debate with her rather than roll his eyes and start talking about quidditch despite playing the sport. 

 

Hermione may have even liked him more if only his best friend wasn’t a pain in her ass. She got over her dislike for Malfoy a while ago, but their interactions were still tense due to her distaste of him and his crudeness. It was amusing, though, to see Malfoy act like he owned the school when Hermione knew for a fact that Tom was the leader of their little group and dominated the school’s social scene. 

 

Hermione wanted to groan as she stumbled through the common room door and found Tom hosting one of his little meetings. Rather than meeting the glare he gave her for interrupting it, she plopped into an empty chair across from him and made herself comfortable. 

 

She gave him a saccharine smile when he gritted his teeth in irritation, leveling him with a stare of her own. 

 

“Can we help you, Granger?” Malfoy finally asked. Hermione didn’t break her gaze with Tom, choosing instead to cross her ankles primly before smoothing her skirt. 

 

“Yes, Malfoy, as a matter-of-fact, you can help me,” she finally deigned to answer the blonde and Nott, who was sitting beside him, “it’s past eight and this common room is now closed to any visitors. The two of you can fuck off.” 

 

“I beg your pardon?” Nott exclaimed. 

 

Hermione smiled predatorily as she turned her eyes toward him. 

 

“Then beg.” 

 

The two aristocrats stared her down and she just stared right back, only looking away when Tom started laughing, a lovely sound that sent a shiver down her spine. 

 

“Well, gentlemen,” he stated in amusement as he braced his hands on the leather armchair, pushing himself up, “I believe the lady has spoken. You two can fuck off. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast.” 

 

With much grumbling, Malfoy and Nott left the common room, leaving her alone with her Head Boy, who, despite his earlier countenance, was simmering with anger. 

 

“Would you care to explain what that was?” He asked her.

 

“We agreed that we wouldn’t have visitors after eight, Riddle. If my friends can’t be here at that time, neither can yours.” 

 

“It’s 8:03,” he snapped, “you came in five minutes ago. If you had allowed me to finish, they would have been gone by the time eight rolled by.” 

 

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly as she met his eyes. She found him so easy to rile and, after that  _ stupid _ fight she had with Ron in the Gryffindor common room, she needed to let off some steam.

 

“My most sincere apologies, Lord Riddle,” she drawled, doing her best to imitate Malfoy. She smiled in delight as Tom’s nose flared at her mocking tone. 

 

“What do you want, Granger? You weren’t supposed to be back until later.” 

 

“Maybe I missed your company.”

 

He snorted at that, “your boyfriend piss you off again?”

 

She gave a delicate sniff, “Ronald and I are not dating. But he did piss me off.”

 

“So you decided to come here and make me suffer because of something that idiot did?” 

 

Hermione bit her tongue as the urge to defend Ron came forth, choosing to glare at Tom as she got up and wandered to the kitchenette. He wasn’t wrong. 

“Is my presence so insufferable?” She quipped back sardonically. 

 

“Of course not,” he answered back, much softer than she expected. 

 

She cleared her throat, “well, Ronald is truly an idiot and I had enough of him for the night. I came here because you always give me a good fight.”

 

Hermione smiled at him as he let out a low laugh, certain that he was recalling their academic debates and arguments over the years until the truce they called on the first day of their seventh year. 

 

Sometimes, she thought he liked antagonizing her more than he liked antagonizing Harry whenever he disagreed with her for the sake of disagreeing.

 

“I think all of your friends are blithering idiots. It always surprises me that you associate with them.” 

 

He knew exactly what she wanted. 

 

She scoffed derisively, “I’d rather have friends than a band of worshippers who fear me. What a lonely life it must be.” 

 

Hermione watched as Tom’s jaw clenched tightly, “don’t presume to speak on something you don’t understand, Granger.” 

 

He got up and stalked towards her as graceful as a lithe panther. His presence was domineering and she hadn’t realised that she had take steps away from him until her back was against the wall. 

 

The smell of his cologne made her dizzy and she could see why so many of her female peers fell over the feet wanting him and why her male peers wanted to be just like him so badly. 

 

He was almost perfect. 

 

Except for the sinister smirk on his face. 

 

A thrill went through her as he pinned her wrist to the wall behind her and ran his nose down her jawline, inhaling her scent. 

 

“Tell me what you want, Granger,” he rasped, his voice full of promises that he would please her throughout the night. 

 

She should have thrown him off of her because she came to him for a fight, not to be seduced. But with his lips so close and his cologne making her head unclear, she leaned up and tried to kiss him.

 

Perhaps this would be a better distraction. 

 

He dodged her kiss with ease and a whine left her throat as he lightly pressed his lips against her, just enough that she could feel how soft they were, but not enough for her to capture them in between her teeth. 

 

“I want you to beg for me, princess,” he said against her lips as one hand came down to cup and squeeze her perky breast through her school jumper, before pulling at her nipple and rolling it in between his fingers as well as he could, “will you do that for me?” 

 

Her words left her as she pressed her thighs together, attempting to relieve herself in some way. She would never admit it out loud but she loved this, craved this in a way that she thought no one could have ever given her. 

 

He noticed her thighs clenching together and shifted himself so that his thighs were in between hers, preventing her from relieving herself in any way as her hands were still held tight by his and her legs spread by his own. 

 

“Just tell, me, luv,” Tom whispered, his breath leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever it caressed, “I promise you that you won’t ever want me to stop.” 

 

She knew that this wasn’t right and that she probably shouldn’t be doing this but Hermione decided to sell her soul to the devil and nodded her head. 

 

“Say it,” he demanded. 

 

“I want you, Tom,” she sighed as he licked her throat where her pulse thrummed, “I want you to fuck me, please.” 

 

The air changed as his hands threaded through her hair and jerked her head back before he devoured her lips, sucking and biting. 

Tom kissed her for seconds before he was pushing her to her knees and easing his cock from the confines of his school trousers. His hand stroked his length once, twice, as Hermione looked up at him, all wide eyes and parted lips and -

 

“Fuck Granger,” he rasped as he fed his cock into her mouth, “look how pretty you are.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut when he cupped her jaw in the palm of his hand and muttered the words that she’d never admit to anyone, were her undoing. “Good girl.”

* * *

 

**The second time,** it was none of the soft teasing and begging. It was hard, rough, and fast in the Restricted Section of the library.  

 

Hermione was  _ trying _ to study for the test Snape had subtly hinted was coming up, but Ron kept annoying her, begging her to slack off and join him and Harry down at the quidditch pitch.

 

“Please Hermione,” he whined. Hermione gripped her quill tightly. It was a wonder it hadn’t snapped.

 

“Yes,” a voice interrupted, Tom, “Please Hermione,” he mocked.

 

She grit her teeth and glared across Ron’s shoulder at him. 

 

“What do you want Riddle?”

 

He shrugged, an easy movement that moved his shoulders in a way that had Hermione remembering what they’d looked like when he’d held her up against the wall of their common room and fucked her a few weeks ago.

 

“I don’t want anything, but Madam Pince,” he looked pointedly at Ron who flinched under his gaze, “requested the presence of the head girl and-”

 

“Ok,” she snapped, standing from the desk she’d been at with her friend, “I’m coming.”

 

She thought she heard him mumble something that sounded suspiciously like “you will be,” but dismissed the thought as quickly as it’d appeared. That was until he pulled her into a darkened alcove of the library, pinned her hands above her head and nudged his nose along the column of her throat.

 

“What the fuck Riddle,” she managed to gasp as he sucked the skin of her neck into his mouth, purposefully nipping harshly - marking her. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m stopping you from committing murder and being sent to Azkaban Granger,” he murmured against her neck, sliding one hand up her bare thigh, under her skirt till his knuckles brushed against her cloth covered cunt that was rapidly becoming damper.

“I’m distracting you,” he added, dragging his lips from her throat and looking up at her, his fingers never stopping as they slipped beneath the cotton of her underwear and pressed against her clit. “Like a friend.”

 

“A friend?” she asked breathily. Her tongue darted out to lick at her lips and Tom pressed two fingers into her, crooking them in a come hither motion. She arched against the bookshelf and Tom smirked.

 

“A very good friend.”

* * *

 

**The third time** , he was angry. 

 

Slytherin had just lost their last game of the season to Gryffindor by only 10 points when Harry caught the Snitch. Hermione saw the look on Tom’s face as he stormed off the field and whilst she knew that she should be celebrating with her Housemates she couldn’t help herself as she waited for him outside of the Slytherin locker room. 

 

When the last of his teammates had cleared out, Hermione slipped inside the locker room and searched for him. 

 

He wasn’t in the locker room and when she heard the showers still running she quickly and quietly stripped out of her coat and her jeans and her jumper before she walked towards the sound. She bit her lip at the sight of him leaning against the wall, water cascading down over his tense shoulders and back. His muscular thighs. 

 

She stepped towards him and tentatively reached a hand out towards him, the tips of her fingers brushing his shoulder.

 

She should have known better.

 

His hand wrapped around her wrist and he slammed her into the wall, pinning her with both a glare and his wand that he’d somehow pulled from somewhere. Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes and pressed her thighs together in an effort to quell the ache that had suddenly appeared at how dominant he was being. Tom’s eyes softened though when he realised just who had interrupted him and Hermione hadn’t even had a chance to say hi, to congratulate him on a well played game regardless of the result before he was lifting her into his arms and sliding home into her. 

 

Her head fell back against the tiles, and she absentmindedly had a thought that she’d need to make sure the movement hadn’t left a bump later, before she was wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him as he fucked all of his frustration and anger and annoyance into her, his teeth latching onto her neck and his fingers gripping her hips possessively in the process.

* * *

 

**The fourth time** , she was drunk and accidentally flooed straight into his flat. 

 

Well, she liked to say that it was an accident. 

 

But she’d only drank half a bottle of wine and had three shots after she’d allowed Harry to pull her into an alleyway and proceed to snog her. 

 

But - when his hands had drifted to her waist and his thumbs had grazed the slither of skin between her blouse and her skirt she’d pulled away, frowning.

 

Harry smiled and nudged her gently before placing a chaste kiss against her forehead. “It’s ok,” he murmured gently. “Still friends?”

 

Hermione was already nodding before she looked up at him. “Best friends.”

 

They’d then proceeded to stumble into the closest bar and get drunk but when Harry had tried to escort her home she’d just grinned at him and vanished in a whirl of green flame.

 

She found Tom sleeping, the duvet hanging loosely over him and she couldn’t help herself. She stripped off her dress, shucked her heels and crawled up the bed until she was sitting on him.

 

He didn’t wake up until she wrapped one hand around his shaft and the other around his throat, her fingertips tapping against his pulse point.

 

His eyes snapped open. “What are you doing here?” He grunted. “Shouldn’t you be on your date?”

 

She rolled her eyes and then her hips, dragging her underwear over the length that she could feel pressing against her, even through the blanket separating them. “You know why I’m here.”

 

“Move.”

 

“No.”

 

“Hermione.”

 

“Tom,” she mocked in that same serious tone, though she was grinning down at him, her hair falling over her bare shoulders. He didn’t say anything, only continued to glare up at her. She wandlessly vanished the duvet between them and rolled her hips again, just as the hand she’d had previously wrapped around his cock flicked at his nipple. It pebbled under her touch and she grinned at him. “Please?” She murmured.

 

He sighed dramatically and jerked his head in agreement, like it was a great pain for him to suffer as she vanished both their underwear and slid herself down onto him.

 

“Potter made you this wet and then left you high and dry?” He groaned beneath her. She flicked his nipple again, harder this time - her nail catching just a little and she grinned when he hissed.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Me and Harry are just friends.”

* * *

 

**The fifth time** was the only time she could ever remember Tom being gentle with her. 

 

They hadn’t been doing anything other than eating take out and watching shitty romantic comedies on netflix in an attempt to take their minds off the absolute shit storm of a day they’d both had at work - as respective heads of their departments, it had been their necks on the line that morning when Kingsley had slammed into the ministry's largest boardroom and proceeded to give them all a tongue lashing that had left all of them reeling - when Tom pulled her into his lap so that she was straddling him and hugged her to him, his hands slipping under the loose sweater she’d thrown on before he’d come over. 

She stroked her fingers through his hair and tilted his face back so she could meet his eye.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

He only shook his head and slipped his hands down to her waist, his fingers sliding under the band of the pyjama shorts she was wearing. She sighed when he let one hand drift along her hipbone until it was cupping her bare sex and he was sliding his fingers through her folds, his thumb ghosting her clit until she tore her sweater off in desperation for him to do something,  _ anything _ , to appease the ache between her legs.

 

“Please Tom,” she sobbed when he pulled one taut nipple between his teeth and nipped at it. She tugged at the drawstrings of his joggers and grasped the thick, hard length of him in her hand, even as she bucked against him.

 

Tom let her shift her hips, and pulled the crotch of her shorts aside so that she could manoeuvre onto his cock and when he had filled her to the hilt and could already feel the beginning of her first orgasm teasing his cock, he pulled his head back and watched her grind her hips against him. “You look so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, right before he thrust his hips up into her and proceeded to fuck her slowly - like they had all the time in the world.

 

When Tom had spent himself and brought her to orgasm no less than six times, Hermione pried herself from his arms and went to the bathroom.

 

She stood over the sink and watched her reflection run the tips of her fingers over the swollen flesh of her lips and the purple marks on her neck and wondered if this is what it felt like to belong to someone. To belong to To-

 

“No.”

 

They were friends.

Friends with benefits.

But nothing more.

* * *

 

**The first time it wasn’t just sex** , was at the Ministry’s annual gala. Hermione had come alone, because even though Tom usually escorted her to these sorts of things, he hadn’t asked her this time and she was far too stubborn to ask him herself.

 

So she’d distracted herself dancing with her friends and colleagues and then contemplated leaving as quickly as possible when Malfoy had cornered her at the bar. 

 

Her mistake though, had come when she’d asked after Tom and Draco lost it.

 

“He loves you, you dumb bint, he’s just too much of a cold bastard to admit it,” Draco snapped.

 

She stared at him wide eyed before she remembered how to use her voice. “He doesn’t love me,” she spluttered in denial, “we just use each other — he knows this.”

 

"All that hair has really made you stupid, hasn’t it, Granger," Draco sneered and Hermione's eyes went wide with fury at the insult, "when was the last time you saw him with anyone else? When was the last time he bent to anyone elses whims and desires? The last time it felt like he was just ‘using you’ as you so eloquently put it?"

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said firmly, denying any plausibility of Tom having feelings for her and forcefully pushing the emory of their last time from her mind.

 

Draco glared at her angrily, “you know exactly what I’m talking about, you’re just too much of a coward to see it. Afraid Saint Potter will abandon you?”

 

Hermione bristled, "Harry and I are just friends!" 

 

Draco snorted, "Go on dates with all of your friends do you?" 

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "No." 

 

"Of course not," Draco sneered, "because that would mean you'd have been on a date with Tom. But then again, you've never really been his friend have you? Never seen him as anything more useful than a cock for you to suck when it suits you." 

 

Hermione wasn't even aware of her hand moving until it had swung across the space between them and landed firmly across Draco's face. 

 

"You're a right bastard Malfoy," she hissed.

 

“At least I’m not a fucking coward who can’t admit to my feelings,” Draco hissed right back, pressing his hand against his cheekbone. “You keep playing him for a fool, denying that you feel anything for him and you’ll find that he won’t be at your beck and call anymore one day. He’s going to move on and he’ll find someone who actually  _ deserves _ him, Granger. Maybe then, I won’t have to deal with his insufferable moping.” 

 

The idea of Tom with anyone else sent her mind roaring with a jealous possessiveness that she didn’t even realise she had. She blinked once, twice, before realising that Malfoy may just be right. Imagining a nameless and faceless woman by Tom’s side, being on the receiving side of Tom’s doting and attention, was unpleasant and she felt her stomach churn in protest.

 

She felt tears prick at the edge of her eyes and avoided Malfoy’s glare. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Of knowing he had broke her. 

 

“Fuck off Malfoy!” She muttered, before she turned on her heel and made to storm off, only to come face to face with the sight of Tom lounging against a pillar in the Ministry’s Atrium and Daphne fucking Greengrass slithering up beside him, placing a perfectly manicured hand on his forearm and leaning up to whisper something in his ear, a coy smirk pulling at her lips. 

 

Hermione felt her heart stutter.

 

Draco snorted when he saw what had made her stop. “Perhaps you’re already too late Granger,” he sneered. “Maybe Tom will be my brother-in-law one day soon. Merlin knows Daphne is a much better match for him than you.”

 

Hermione ignored Draco’s comments and summoned that Gryffindor courage that she knew was somewhere inside of her. With her shoulders squared and her head held high, Hermione forced herself to move calmly across the space, her heart pounding wildly as Tom noticed her and straightened. 

 

“Hermione,” he greeted with a tilt of his head. 

 

“Tom,” she responded, making a point not to look at the gorgeous blonde, afraid of what she might do, “can we talk in private, please?” She requested.

 

Despite the arching of his eyebrow and the slight protests from Daphne, Tom nodded once. 

 

“We can talk in my office,” he offered before walking off towards the lift. 

 

Hermione had never been so nervous in her life — not even when she was taking her final N.E.W.T exam — as she followed him.

 

They didn’t speak as they entered the lift and Hermione tried not to melt into him when he wrapped an arm around her waist as the lift jolted. She could barely suppress a whine when he removed his hand from her lower back and stepped around her as the lift stopped at the correct level. 

 

Tom was already leaning against his desk when Hermione entered his office and shut the door behind her, leaning against the cold wood. She wasn’t sure if it was the coolness of the room or the way Tom was watching her that made goosebumps erupt along her skin. 

 

“Well,” Tom drawled, looking bored as he gazed at her, “what is it?”

  
_ Malfoy is wrong, _ she thought,  _ there is no way that handsome, enigmatic, completely infuriating man is in love with me. _

 

Hermione swallowed. “I just wanted to make sure that we’re on the same page for the meeting next week.”

 

He cocked his head in amusement, “the meeting about each department’s budget analysis? When we’re the respective heads of our own department?” 

 

Hermione tried to fight the flush that burned from her neck up, “yes, I, uh, just thought that we would need to —”

 

He cut her off, “what did you Draco say to you?” He asked exasperatedly.

 

“Mal -- Malfoy,” she stuttered, “why would he say -- what would we -- nothing. He didn’t say anything important.”

 

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and Hermione fumbled with the door handle behind her. 

 

“Just forget I said anything,” she mumbled, “it’s not important.”

 

“You’ve always been a shite liar, you know.”

 

She felt her temper flare and snapped her head up to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

 

“No. You are not excused at all.” He swept his wand across the room and Hermione heard and felt the lock click into place behind her. “What did Malfoy say to you?”

 

“It’s not important.”

 

“It was important enough for you to drag me away from the party downstairs.”

 

“Oh, right. I’m  _ so  _ sorry,” she sneered, “I didn’t realise that you were having such a good time talking to  _ Daphne,” _ she spat the name. 

 

Tom glared at her.

 

“I wasn’t,” he replied and she released a breath, “I was thinking how quickly I could get her out of there and have her naked and bouncing on my cock.”

 

Hermione’s heart stuttered pathetically in her chest as she did her best not to gape at him. A silence stretched between the two of them and Hermione felt the world sliding from beneath her feet as she tried to say something witty, anything that could chase away this awful silence. She couldn’t. 

 

“Well, I apologize for interrupting your seduction. I didn’t realise that you had your hand in two cookie jars at once.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Granger?” 

 

“What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you?” 

 

A low and dark chuckle spilled from his lips as he pinned her with a stare, “you’re the cruelest woman I’ve ever met in my fucking life.”

 

She lifted her chin defiantly. “The pot calling the kettle black, Riddle. I guess we shouldn’t be friends anymore, then, yeah? Since I’m the cruelest woman you’ve ever met in your fucking life.”

 

Tom laughed, then, and the emptiness of it made Hermione realise how cruel he truly was. “Oh, Hermione, I definitely don’t want to be your friend anymore,” he muttered lowly. 

 

Tom’s eyes raked over her body and pointedly glared at the calender hanging on the wall behind him, hoping that he didn’t notice how she shifted her legs in an effort to quell the ache between then from his look. 

 

“Good. I’ll be going then.” She turned then, startling when she felt Tom pressing himself against the length of her back. She could feel the thick hard length of him wedged against her arse and resisted the urge to grind against him.

 

“Why are you so stubborn?” He breathed against her ear. Hermione felt goosebumps erupt again at the warmth of his breath. “Why is it so hard for you to believe what Malfoy said?”

 

She stilled. “How do you know what Malfoy said?”

 

“Because Gra- Hermione,” he let his hands rest on her bare shoulders and turned her body to face him. “I told him to tell you.”

 

“I — what? You told him to call me a dumb bint?” she seethed, turning around so that their chests were pressed against each other. 

 

Tom snorted unexpectedly at her comment, “well, he never really liked you.”

 

“Tom!”

 

“Hermione.” 

 

“What? Why? What?”

 

Tom sighed. “I was really hoping we could skip this part and go straight to the sex.” Hermione blinked up at him. 

 

“What?” He asked at her incredulous look. 

 

“You were literally planning on taking Greengrass home with you not even five minutes ago.” 

 

He snorted and Hermione continued to blink up at him. “You didn’t think-“ he sighed again and pulled Hermione by the hand further into his office until she was sat on the edge of his desk.

 

“She was in on the plan. Everyone knows how mad I am for you princess.” 

 

“No,” she shook her head, “I can’t belie-”

 

“Can’t believe that? Can’t believe that I’d have fallen for my best friend? Seriously?”

 

“I’m honestly surprised you’re not in love with Malfoy,” she snarked, trying to get a foothold in the situation.

 

“Hermione,” he growled in frustration.

 

“Yes?” she responded sweetly, aware of his hand creeping down her back to her arse.

 

“It’s you, you insufferable woman, that I’m in love with. Ever since that fucking day in the Heads’ dorm.” 

 

Hermione stared at him for a long time, unaware of how much time lapsed as she did so, taking note of the features that had become such a comfort to her over the years. Those stormy, grey eyes, that proud forehead, the high cheeks, and the curve of his soft, lips. She realized that, perhaps, she was silent for too long when he disentangled himself from her with a long sigh. 

 

“I don’t even know why I bother,” he snarled as he headed towards the door. 

 

“Wait — Tom!” She called. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. She approached him and wrapped her arms around him. “I love you, too,” she confessed, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder blade before he switched positions with her, pinning her hands above her hea d with a devilish light in his eyes.

 

“Say it again,” he demanded, running his nose across her jawline before nipping her ear.

 

“No,” she responded impishly. “You haven’t even told me yourself.”

 

She felt him smirk against her neck, even as his arms swept under her legs and lifted her into his arms. He quickly crossed his office again and before Hermione had a chance to protest, had shuffled the skirt of her dress up to her waist, ducked his head between her thighs and removed her knickers with his teeth.

 

Her elbows, that she was propped up on as she watched him, nearly gave out when she felt his tongue dart across her clit and trace the word ‘MINE’. And she could barely help the sob that escaped her lips when he drove two fingers into her and began to suck on her clit. She writhed and arched and moaned as he drove them into her over and over and when he curled them and nudged that illusive spongy spot that he’d always been able to find for her she fell apart.

 

“Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom.” His name fell from her lips like a litany and when he pulled his mouth from her cunt and slanted his lips across her own she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him kiss her and hold her, even as his fingers continued to stroke her down.

 

“Are you convinced now?” he murmured against her lips. 

 

“Maybe?” She snarked, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth and nibbling on it till it was as plump and red as her own. She slipped her hands from round his neck and began to work his robes open, before she slid her hands to his waist and began to tug on his belt buckle. “I think you might need to keep convincing me.”

 

She could feel him smirking against her jaw.

 

“Good thing I’ve got all the time in the world to do so then. Yeah?” He said right before he spun her, pressed his hand against the back of her neck, bent her over his desk, nudged her knees apart with his and slid home into her.

 

“Mine,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against the shell of her ear.

 

“Yours,” she replied before she groaned and tossed him a look over her shoulder. “Mine too.”


End file.
